


This Wasn't Part Of Our Arrangement

by Sculder (Philer4Ever)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Hand & Finger Kink, Homoeroticism, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content, Submission, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:52:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6996592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philer4Ever/pseuds/Sculder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A significant change takes place within Mulder and Skinner's discipline arrangement and things will never be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Wasn't Part Of Our Arrangement

Fox Mulder's Apartment 

I've made a big mistake. I can't believe I did this shit. I actually called Skinner and asked him to come to my apartment so I could tell him I disobeyed him again. What the hell is wrong with me? I must be some kind of masochist. When he gets here and finds out what I did, he's going to beat the shit out of me. It started off as a good idea. I call and tell him to come over. When he gets here, first I'll tell him I disobeyed him—again. Then I'll explain why I'm telling him. 

I want him here to make it easier for me. I'm more comfortable in my own surroundings, not to mention the fact if I'm really hurting, at least I'll be home. I'll try and make him relax, praying he's not in a bad mood before he arrives. Then I'll begin to explain to him the reason I’m telling him this. I'll tell him I did this because I want to tell him the truth. I didn't want to trick or deceive him in any way. I want to be totally honest and not keep anything from him. I wanted to be the one to tell him before he found out from someone else. This way I figure he would be so impressed I told him, he wouldn't punish me as bad or if I'm really lucky, not at all. 

Yeah right. Who am I kidding? Skinner isn't the kind of man who didn't keep promises or agreements. No, I'm gonna get it all right and get it big time. I disobeyed another direct order. He told me not to go. He ordered me not to go because he knew if he just *told* me not to go I definitely would. Christ, not even a direct order can stop me when my mind is made up. Not even the threat of bodily harm. I just had to go. Now he's coming over here because I called him. I'm going to try to talk him into going easy on me. I have to try my damnedest to convince him I'm doing this because I want to be honest and tell him the truth-- not because I want to save my ass (which is the real truth). If I'm a good enough actor, maybe I can pull it off. Just maybe... 

I have to get up and pace. Gotta' move, can't keep still. Jesus, I'm so freakin' tense. All my nerve endings are eating me alive. I run my hands through my hair. I called Skinner about a half an hour ago so he should be here soon. I have to try to calm myself down. The last thing I need is to be a complete wreck once he arrives. I've got to relax. God, I need to run. I need to get rid of all this nervous tension, but I glance at my watch and see that there's no time. I rub my hands over my face. Man, if I drank I would be wasted right now. I continue to pace. Where the fuck is he? He should be here by now. I go to sit on my couch and immediately jump up and resume my pacing. I grab my basketball and begin to bounce it on the floor and against the wall. I do this repeatedly until I hear a knock at the door. Shit—it’s that fuckin' bastard next door again, always banging to stop me from bouncing my ball. I stomp over to the door, yelling, "Why don't you leave me the fuck alone?!" Then I open the door to find my boss standing there. I feel all the blood drain from my face. 

"I thought you called me to come over," Skinner says with a tinge of humor in his voice. 

I swallow hard. "Um...I'm sorry, Sir. I thought you were someone else. Please come in," I say, moving aside for him to enter. 

Skinner walked into my apartment and stood in the middle of the room, awaiting directions. I close the door and turn toward him. "Sir, can I take your coat?" I ask, holding out my hand. 

"No, Agent Mulder. I don't expect to be here very long. What was it you wanted?" he asks in his usual gruff tone.  
Fine. He wants me to get right to the point. I should have known. No beating around the bush with Skinner. He's not even going to sit down, but he has to. I don't want him standing when I tell him. I need him to be sitting so he would be a *little* less menacing. 

"Sir, wouldn't you like to sit?" I ask, trying not to sound like I was begging-- which I was. I gesture for him to have a seat, trying to give him a warm and welcoming smile. Thank God, Skinner goes to sit down but he's glaring at me, waiting for me to tell him why I called him here. Christ, I don't know where to begin. I start to pace again, wringing my hands. I look over at Skinner and he's wearing a puzzled expression. And I can see a bit of annoyance. No, I see a lot of annoyance. 

"Mulder, I'm a busy man. Would you please tell me why you called me here?" Skinner continues to glare at me. It felt like his eyes were boring a hole straight through my head. You can imagine how calm that must make me feel... I take in a deep breath and let it out then I attempt to answer his question. 

"Sir," I say, still pacing. 

"Agent Mulder, would you please keep still? You're making me nervous," he says, interrupting me. 

I'm making *you* nervous, I thought. "I'm sorry Sir. I am a little nervous," I admit, trying to produce a grin.  
"I can see that. Why don't you take a deep breath and begin again," he said in a surprisingly patient tone. 

I do as he says: taking in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. All that seems to have done is make me light headed. I go to sit on my desk chair just to keep myself from pacing anymore. I lean forward with my elbows resting on my knees and my head down. I keep my head lowered as I begin to speak. 

"Sir, I....um...did something this evening. Something you specifically told me....no, *ordered* me-- not to do." I look up at him to see his expression. Just as I thought: he's throwing daggers at me with his eyes. I lower my eyes and continue. "I...went to the Cigarette Smoking Man's place again." In an instant, Skinner got up and is now looming over me. 

"Agent Mulder, I specifically ordered you not to go there! Why did you disobey my direct order?!" he roared. 

I look up at him, trying my best not to let him see how terrified I am.

"Sir, I had to. The last time I was there, he refused to tell me anything. I wanted to have another go at him," I said, feeling confident with my reasoning. 

"The last time you were there, you almost blew his head off. I ordered you to stay away from there for just that reason," Skinner said backing away from me a little. 

"Sir, nothing close to that happened this time. I didn't even carry my gun." As the words left my mouth, I knew I had divulged too much. Skinner's eyes opened wider and he moved toward me again. 

"Mulder, do you mean to tell me that you, an FBI agent, left your house without your weapon?" His voice is a little too controlled. 

I bite my lip and try to give him my sad puppy eyes, knowing it doesn't work with him. Then I simply nod my head. Skinner moves away from me and rubs a hand across his head. Oh boy... he only does that when he's really angry. The last thing I want or need is to make him as mad as he was the last time when we came back on the plane. I have to find something to say that will cool him off. 

"Sir, I had my back-up gun, the one I keep under my pants leg." Please God, let this make him feel a little less mad at me. Skinner turned around to look at me. 

"Why didn't you say you had your back-up gun before?" His tone is somewhat calmer. 

I shrug. "Sorry." 

Skinner sits back down on the couch and stares at me. After he succeeds in making me completely uncomfortable, he speaks. 

"Agent Mulder, why did you call me here to tell me this?" he asked in a tranquil voice. 

I get up and stand closer to him. Now he's looking up at me. 

"Sir, I knew I had disobeyed you and I wanted to tell you before you found out from someone else." I look away feeling my palms getting sweaty. I rub them down the sides of my jeans. I glance back at Skinner and he's glaring at me again. 

"Agent Mulder, do you remember our *little* arrangement?" he asks, as if I could ever forget. 

Skinner is referring to an arrangement we made some time ago to save me from myself. Essentially, this arrangement gave him my consent to whip my ass whenever and however he saw fit if I decide to disobey his direct orders or ignore the Bureau's procedure and protocol. Now you might wonder why someone like me would agree to such a thing? Well, this arrangement not only saves my professional ass but it allows me to keep a relatively clean record, which is helpful if I intend to hang on to The X-Files. No black marks, no record of my insubordinate behavior or total lack of regard for protocol and procedure-- nothing for them to use against me. The only validation of my censure would be the presentation of my bright, red, burning ass, which due to our little arrangement will not be presented to anyone. This whole thing is just between Skinner and me. No one else knows about it or ever will, not even Scully. Christ, if she ever found out I would die from the embarrassment, not to mention the look on her face. 

"Yes, Sir. I remember our arrangement," I say, swallowing hard. 

"And you still offered to tell me this?" 

He really seems surprised I did this. Now maybe if I say the right words in just the right way, he might not whip my ass or at least not whip it as much... 

"Sir, I didn't want to lie to you. All through our arrangement, I know you were punishing me with my best interests in mind. You're doing it to make me a better agent and a better person. Believe it or not, I've been trying to learn from the punishments. I'm trying to do the right thing and even when I don't, I still know I must be honest with you because that's what you would want me to do and I know it's what I should do." 

I can almost hear the "National Anthem" playing in the background. 

Skinner gets up from the couch and backs me up against the wall in my living room. He's so close I can feel his breath on my face. Obviously he's not worried about his breath and at the moment that's the furthest thing from my mind. He begins to speak through clenched teeth. 

"Agent Mulder, what kind of fool do you take me for?" he asks. 

I reply wide eyed and innocently, "Sir?" 

"I am fully aware you're only telling me this so you can try to save your ass." Now Skinner had both his hands pressed against the wall on opposite sides of my head. 

"Sir," I swallow, "I swear, I only told you this because I knew I should. I knew you would want to know. And I also know ... I deserve to be punished. God knows I don't want to be, but if we are going to abide by our arrangement, I *have* to be." I say this with all the conviction I can muster while looking him in the eyes. He has to be impressed with the fact that I'm telling him I deserve to be punished for what I did. 

Skinner leans up from the wall, backing away from me. He walks over to the couch and removes his coat, lays it there then sits down, the entire time not taking his eyes off me. He looks away, appearing to be in deep thought. I inwardly pray my words work and he would show me some compassion *because* he believes I'm being honest with him by telling him the truth. I also pray he will be impressed with the fact that I'm willing to be punished because I want to honor our agreement. I can feel my heart pounding as I watch him, trying to read his decision. He lifts his head and stares at me but this time it's not a glare, it's a stare. And with Skinner's eyes, you could tell the difference. I haven't moved from the spot where he pinned me. 

"How do you think you should be punished?" Skinner asks in a suspicious manner. 

I lean up from the wall and go to sit at my desk chair again. I think about his question but have no answer. "I don't know, Sir." I shrug. 

"But you do agree you should be punished?" he asks in the same manner. 

"Yes, Sir. I disobeyed you," I say, nervously shaking my left leg. 

"Do you think I should go easier on you because you told me what you did?" he asks, resting his elbows on his knees. 

His tone was making me feel very uneasy. I had no idea what he was getting at so I decide to proceed with extreme caution. 

"No, Sir, not if you don't think you should," I lie. "You punish me the way you think I should be punished. I know it'll be for my own good," I say, trying for sincerity. 

Skinner gets up once more from the couch and stands in front of me. He looks me dead in the eyes and gives me a smirk. 

"Okay, Agent Mulder. Take off your belt and give it to me." 

I wet my lips nervously and rise from the chair, opening the buckle of my belt. I notice him watching me as I pull it through the loops and hand it to him. He takes it from me and folds it in his hand. Then he looks at me, his eyes are cold. 

"Get undressed. You should know the drill by now," he said dryly, whacking the belt against his thigh, as if to test it. 

I'm feeling quite alarmed right now. A large knot is forming in the pit of my stomach. He didn't just say to remove my jeans and boxers. He just said to get undressed. That usually means he wants me to remove all of my clothes. This doesn't sound as if he's going to go easy on me. I let out a shaky sigh and swallow dryly. Then I begin to remove my clothes. Just in case I got the wrong message, I take off everything but my shirt, socks and shoes. I stand there waiting for him to say something. He looks at me with a puzzled expression. 

"Agent Mulder, did I tell you to just take off your jeans and boxers?" 

"No, Sir. You just said to get undressed," I reply innocently. 

"That's right, and that's what I want you to do-- NOW!" he shouts. 

I jump from the sound of his voice and quickly remove my tee shirt, shoes and socks, throwing them on the floor. He's angry. I begin to feel myself tremble from the cool air in the room and from sheer terror. I watch him as he seems to be sizing me up. At this moment, I want to tell him I'm so sorry for disobeying him again. I'm so sorry for trying to manipulate him. And for lying to him. I want to fall at his feet and sob uncontrollably for him to have mercy on me, but I don't. I can't. I know what he'll think of me if I did that. I know what I'd think of myself. If he was mad at me because he knew I was trying to manipulate him, then I deserve what happens to me. I shouldn't have been stupid enough to think I could get away with this. 

Skinner walks over to me and raises his hand. I instinctively flinch. He then grabs me hard at the back of my neck and slams me against the wall. If I hadn't put up my hands, I'm sure my nose would have been broken. Skinner's angrier than I've ever seen him, angrier than after my stunt with that paper hearts monster. What did I do to make him this mad? Could he be this angry because I went to see that smoking bastard? He releases my neck and manipulates the belt in his hand. I look back and notice he has wrapped the belt around his hand with the buckle hanging down. 

Oh shit, he's going to hit me with the buckle?! 

"Sir, please," I say, turning slightly to try and plead with him. As I turn, I see the buckle coming down on me and I dodge it just in time. 

"Agent Mulder, you will stay still!" he yells, raising the buckle again. This time he brings it down making contact with my right elbow. I scream in pain and sink to my knees, grabbing it. 

"Get up, Mulder. I'm not through with you yet!" he orders, but I'm in no condition to comply. My elbow feels like it's broken. I begin to moan and rock on the floor.

"That wouldn't have happened if you had kept still. Now get up!" he yells, grabbing me by the hair and pulling me to my feet. I howl as he turns me to face the wall once again. 

"For your own good, I'd advise you to keep still," he snarls. 

From the corner of my eye, I see him raise the belt, bringing the buckle down on my naked back. It lands directly on my left shoulder blade. The pain is excruciating. I am sure the skin is broken. He said he would never break the skin. This was *not* part of our arrangement. It's all I can do to keep from dropping to the floor again. Something was definitely wrong. This wasn't like any of the other times he’s punished me. This was different. This was brutal and I didn't understand why. Why was he so mad at me? 

I turn around to face Skinner as he was about to bring the buckle down on me again. I lift my hands to protect my face. 

"Agent Mulder, turn around and face the wall!" he shouts. 

"Sir, why are you doing this? Please tell me what I did to make you so mad. You've never punished me like this before. Please, Sir!" I didn't care if I was begging

Skinner acts as though I didn't say a word. He raises the buckle in the air as I turn back towards the wall, the buckle makes agonizing contact with my back again. This time it lands between my shoulder blades. *Jesus-- my spine!*. It causes me to drop to the floor, gasping in pain. At this point I realize Skinner is really trying to hurt me. I would say or do anything to prevent this.

I look up and see the buckle coming down on me again, but this time I reach up and grab it. If he wasn't going to play by the rules, then neither was I. I hold on to the belt as if my life depends on it, because I believe it does. We begin a tug of war with the belt. Skinner is yelling for me to let it go. Of course I disobey. Finally he lets the belt go and I fall back against the wall, groaning in pain. As I slide down the wall to the floor, I notice Skinner opening the door and walking out. 

I sit for a few minutes to collect myself then I attempt to get up. I have to grit my teeth from the pain in my back. When I finally manage to stand, I notice the blood stain on the wall. I'm bleeding. The son of a bitch drew blood. I pad to the bathroom mirror to try and investigate the damage but I can't really see. I need somebody to check my back out. The last thing I need is an infection but I can't call Scully. How could I explain this? I need somebody who won't ask questions if I told them not to. I sit on the edge of my couch and try to think of someone when suddenly my front door begins to open. I immediately scramble to grab my gun and point it towards the door. I'm standing there completely naked, bleeding and terrified. I start breathing hard, trying not to hyperventilate. The door opens a bit more and I see it's... Skinner. 

I didn't lower the gun. 

"Don't shoot," he said, raising his hands in the air. 

"Why shouldn't I?" I ask, cocking the gun. 

"Because I'm not going to hurt you anymore. I came back to tell you that our arrangement is off," Skinner said with his hands still raised as he moves further into my apartment. 

I lower my gun and blink at him, stunned. He puts down his hands and turns to close the door then asks me if he can sit down. I nod my head and place my gun back in the desk draw, then I go to put my clothes back on. As I raise my arms to pull the shirt over my head, I groan loudly in pain. Skinner gets up and comes over to me. I back away. 

"Keep away from me!" I warn. 

"I guess I deserve that-- but you need someone to take a look at your back," he said, continuing to move towards me. 

"I said get away from me! I don't want you to touch me!" I yell. "I was just about to call someone when you opened my door and came into my apartment unannounced." 

I was the one who was angry now. Who the fuck does he think he is? Trying to literally beat the shit out of me-- and now he thinks he can just walk back in here as if everything was all right... 

Skinner walks over, sits down on my couch then looks up at me. 

"Agent Mulder, who can you call? You can't call Agent Scully for obvious reasons and anyone else might be tempted to report the incident." He had the nerve to sound smug. 

I stood over him. "How do you know *I* don't want to report this? Maybe *I* want to punish *you* this time," I said with a self-satisfying tone. 

"And I definitely would deserve it, but will you allow me to explain before you punish me?" Skinner asks calmly. 

I sit down on my desk chair leaning forward so it wouldn't make contact with the bruises on my back. 

"Go ahead," I order. "Explain." 

Skinner takes a deep breath and lets it out. Then he looks into my eyes. 

"Agent Mulder, first let me say I am terribly sorry for losing control like that and hurting you. I should have never allowed it to happen." His voice was sincere. 

"And why did it happen? What did I do to made you so angry?" I ask, rubbing my elbow. 

Skinner shakes his head. "You're really not to blame." 

He sees the confused look on my face and tries to explain himself. 

"I'm to blame for the way I reacted to your behavior. I allowed myself to become really angry with you. I wasn't just angry about the smoking man incident-- it was the fact you lied to me. You told me you were being honest when you weren't. I don't tolerate liars, Agent Mulder. I even gave you a chance to tell me the truth, but you didn't. You continued to lie to me. I got the feeling you were trying to manipulate me and that made me even angrier with you. After all we've been through, it was hard to believe you could lie to me like that," he said in a hurtful tone. 

Skinner searched my eyes for a reaction. I was just staring, in a kind of shock. I couldn't believe this man had intentionally hurt me like this *just* because I lied to him. I mean lying *is* wrong but it shouldn't be considered something to nearly cripple a person for. When I finally blink, I focus my eyes on Skinner. I watch him for a few seconds before I speak. 

"Do you mean to tell me you beat me like *that* because I lied to you?" I want him to hear the venom in my voice. 

"Agent Mulder, it wasn't just because you lied to me, it was the *way* you lied to me. You took me for a fool. You intentionally told me those things so you wouldn't be punished as severely. You didn't mean anything you said. The punishments I've been giving you were to prevent just this kind of behavior: being deceitful and dishonest. I assumed you thought more of me than that. I felt personally attacked and... hurt." 

Skinner lowered his eyes for a moment, then continued: "But that's besides the point. I shouldn't have let my emotions get the best of me like that." He pauses again, then looks at me. 

"Remember how I began your punishment after I brought you back from Boston?" he asks me, like I could ever forget it. 

"Yeah, you had me doing push-ups until my arms cramped up," I say hating to be reminded of it. 

"And do you know why I had you do that?" 

"Yes. You said something about needing time to calm down or else you probably would have killed me," I say, recalling the memorable event as if it happened yesterday. 

"I was very angry that day, Mulder. You know that. I definitely needed to calm down before I laid a hand on you. If I had touched you in the state I was in, well... you would have experienced tonight much sooner." His tone was so matter-of-fact I felt like punching him and it's not like he didn't deserve it. 

"So you're telling me the reason you did what you did to me tonight is because you were angry and didn't have the chance to calm down before beginning my punishment?" I ask, still a little confused. 

"When I arrived at your apartment and you actually told me you had disobeyed another direct order without me having to find out on my own, I felt proud of you for being able to do that considering our arrangement. I was prepared to go easy on you this time. Then you went on, trying to convince me your intentions were honorable. I got angry because I knew you were lying. Right then and there I should have just walked out, but I didn't," he said with a little disappointment in his voice. 

"What made you realize I wasn't being honest with you?" I ask in a low sorrowful tone. 

"It was when you continued on about knowing the punishments were for your own good and you were learning from them. And to top it off-- you said you wanted to tell me the truth because you knew I would want you to. Agent Mulder, anyone who knows you for 15 minutes would know all of that was a big load of shit! How could you think I would fall for that?" Skinner's tone was more hurt than angry. 

I wince from what he has just said. "Yeah, I was really stupid, either that or really desperate," I say with no sign of humor. 

"I shouldn't have tried to pull the wool over your eyes. I'll just tell you like it is from now on. The truth. No more manipulating." I throw him a weak smile. "And next time, I'll tell you over the phone first. That way you'll have time to cool down before you get to me." 

Skinner gets up from the couch, turning his back. He turns around again, letting out a loud sigh. 

"Agent Mulder, there isn't going to be a next time. I'm canceling our arrangement." His voice is very business like but I could hear the emotion. 

My eyes widen in disbelief. I think my mouth is hanging open. How could he say this after all that's happened? I know I got a little angry with him but I never thought it would lead to this.

"Sir, you can't cancel our arrangement," I say. 

"Yes I *can*, especially if some part of it has been violated," he says, standing in front of me. 

"Are you talking about using the buckle on me? Sir, that's not a problem. I'm okay—really,” I say, trying my best to not wince as I bend my arm. 

"Agent Mulder, I made you bleed," Skinner said, glancing over at the blood stained wall. "I promised with our arrangement to never do that," he says firmly. 

"Sir, that was a mistake. You didn't mean to make me bleed. You just lost your temper a little. It happens. You're only human. It's okay, really." I'm trying my best to sound positive about the situation. 

I look up at Skinner, who's looking at me with dead serious eyes. 

"Mulder, that's where you're wrong. It's *not* okay. I can't afford to *ever* lose control of myself when I'm punishing you. I could have seriously hurt you tonight. I'm going to see to it this never happens again." His usually steely brown eyes were mixed with regret and sorrow. 

I stand up, wincing from the pain in my back and walk over to Skinner. 

"Sir, I forgive you for what happened tonight. It was mostly my fault you lost your temper. I should never had..." 

"No," he interrupts, "it's not a matter of whose fault it was. It has to do with how I reacted and I feel considering what happened tonight, it's not a good idea to continue with this arrangement. I'm not going to risk your safety. It was never about that." Skinner's voice is almost cracking with emotion. 

I look into his eyes, not blinking until I'm through. 

"Sir, I beg to differ. We made this arrangement *together* and you can't just cancel it without my consent." 

"Agent Mulder..." 

"No, Sir," I say, interrupting this time. "I don't want to cancel our arrangement and it's not because I'm afraid of the alternative. Our arrangement wasn't just about punishing me for disobeying you. It was to teach me how to be a better person and a better agent. It was so I would stop acting impulsively and think about my actions before I do them. So I would stop trying to get myself and my partner killed because of my foolhardiness."

I pause a moment, then continue: 

"And Sir, I know you have too much self discipline to let yourself lose control like that again. I'm not going to let you lose confidence in yourself and your ability to keep to the terms of our arrangement. You don't trust yourself to keep to the arrangement because you think you'll lose control again and really hurt me. Well, I know *that's* bullshit, Sir-- pardon my language. You are too much in control of yourself to ever let that happen again."  
I pause once more, walking away from him. I notice the look in his eyes. It's a look of surprise and shock: the shock of someone actually saying these things to him. Nobody speaks to him like this, but I had to. He needs to hear these things. At least I think so. I turn around to face him again, glancing at the floor then into his eyes.

"I know you lost control because I made you angry." I hold up my hand to stop him from interrupting. "Yes, Sir, I made you lose it because I lied to you the way I did. I chose not to be honest with you." 

"But I still had no right to hurt you like that because you made me angry." 

"Sir, I made this arrangement with the complete understanding that you would *hurt* me to help me. I agreed to this. I'm just as responsible for what happens to me during these *sessions* as you are. Regardless of what you think, what happened tonight was my fault and I'm not going to let you end this because I did something stupid."

I stand before him, daring him to continue to give me reasons to cancel our arrangement. Whatever he says, I am determined to counter it with reasons of my own. I was not going to let him do this. 

He backs away from me, his head bent, almost as if he were defeated. I watch him and hope what I said has gotten through to him. He moves around my living room, seemingly in deep thought. Then he turns. 

"You know Mulder, I'm fully aware you like to take the blame for everything, but you're not totally to blame here," he says. 

"And neither are you, Sir." I close my eyes, throwing my head back, sighing loudly. Then I look at Skinner again. "Why don't we call it even and just go on from here?"

I'm hoping he'll agree with me this time so all of this can come to an end. My back and arm are really throbbing. I glance at my elbow and I see it's swelling. 

Skinner stares at me for a while then sighs. 

"You're not going let me end our arrangement, are you? You're going to keep at me until I change my mind. You'll keep at me the same way as you do with your cases-- isn't that right?" 

I could see the slightest of smiles appear on Skinner's lips. 

I smile back. "You never had a chance, Sir." 

As I move to sit back down, I wince again and groan, holding my elbow. I notice Skinner watching and he gets up to walk over to me. 

"Agent Mulder, please let me take a look at your back," he says, moving to stand behind me. He helps me pull off my tee shirt. The pain of the motion and the fabric brushing over the bruises cause me to grunt loudly. Skinner examines my back and I hear him groan. 

"What? How bad is it?" I ask anxiously. 

There were two bruises. The one landed between the shoulder blades was already turning a purplish blue. The other one, a skin-deep gash, was oozing blood. Skinner shook his head. 

"I'm so sorry, Mulder. I believe you'll live, but you must be in a lot of pain. Why didn't you tell me? Do you have any pain killers-- like Tylenol?" he asks, getting up to go to my bathroom. 

"Yeah, in the medicine cabinet," I say, turning to watch him leave. I could hear him fumbling around. "Did you find it?" I yell. Just then I look up to see him coming back, carrying the Tylenol and a glass of water. 

"Here. Take this." Skinner hands me two tablets and the water. He watches me down the pills with pain in his eyes. He takes the glass from me and carries it back into the bathroom. 

"Mulder," he yells from the bathroom, "where is your ice bag?" 

"I don't have one. I usually just wrap some ice in a towel," I tell him as he returns to the living room carrying a damp washcloth and a tube of antibacterial ointment. 

"Mulder, I can't believe you don't own an ice bag, considering the amount of injuries you sustain," he said as a point of fact. "Go on the couch and get on your stomach while I get some ice for your elbow." He places the cloth and ointment on the coffee table then turns to leave. 

I get up painfully, slowly moving over to my couch. I take in a deep breath and cautiously lower myself on it. Skinner comes back into the room with some ice in a bowl and two small towels. He sits down next to me on the couch, wrapping some ice in one of the towels, then carefully putting it on my elbow. He does the same with the other towel and places it on the bruise in the center of my back. After this, he picks up the damp cloth and begins to clean the wound that's bleeding. I feel the coolness on my back and it feels good. I gasp a little and Skinner thinks I'm in pain. 

"Sorry, Mulder, but I've got to clean the wound before I apply the ointment. Thank God you don't seem to need any stitches," he says, meticulously cleaning my cut. He reaches for the ointment, screws off the top and squeezes some on his finger. 

"This may hurt a little, so I want you to take a deep breath." Skinner is being so attentive and gentle. I'm loving every minute of it. 

I obey and as I inhale, I feel his finger touch my wound. The deep breath does not work and a surge of pain rips through my shoulder blade. I turn my face into my couch cushion to drown out my yelp. After a few seconds the pain stops, leaving behind pulsating throbbing. When is the Tylenol going to kick in? 

"Mulder, I think I should put a bandage on that. Are they in your medicine cabinet?" he asks, getting up to go back into my bathroom. 

I turn my head in his direction. "Yeah, I think there's a box behind my shaving creme." 

Skinner comes back and carefully places two Band-Aids over the cut. Then he adjusts the ice packs on my elbow and back.

"Are they too cold?" he asks, checking the ice then replacing it. 

"No, Sir. It's fine. And I'm fine, really. You don't have to do anymore. You've done enough already. I'm grateful, but I know you have other things to do," I say, trying to get up. He reaches out a hand and gently holds me down.

"Mulder, I think you should lie there for a little while longer with the ice on you. I want to make sure you're okay before I even think about leaving you," he said, folding his arms across his chest. 

"Sir, I'm okay. The Tylenol has kicked in and I'm feeling much better." I look up at him, giving him my most sincere look. I know he is feeling guilty about all of this. Even though I love the attention, I can't take advantage. Skinner watches me, searching my eyes for sincerity. Then he checks my elbow and back one last time. 

"The swelling should be down in a few days, just kept ice on it. It'll be hard for you to keep ice on the center of your back, so if you can tolerate it-- take the ice out and just lie on the cold towel. If the pain comes back, take some more..." 

"Tylenol, I know, Doc," I interrupt, giving him a big smile. 

He actually smiles back. "If you need anything don't hesitate to call-- understand?"  
I nod. 

"And Mulder, I don't want to see you at the office for the couple of days. That's an order!" he says as he walks toward the door. I strain to look back at him from my position on the couch.

"Yes, Sir-- and thank you." 

"It's the least I can do..." The word *considering* hung unsaid in the air. He gives me a guilty look, opens the door and walks out. 

I release a loud sigh. I know I need to get up and lock the door, but I decide to stay put for while longer. Besides, I'm way too comfortable to move right now. I close my eyes and must have drifted off, because when I wake-- I find myself lying on wet cushions. I lift myself off the couch and discover that I don't feel the pain in my elbow and back too much. Apparently, the ice has numbed the pain and I'm sure the Tylenol helped also.

I go to lock my door, then I take the wet towels into the bathroom and hang them on the shower rod to dry. I go back into the living room and glance at the couch, figuring the water stains will dry eventually, but now I can't lie on it. I decide to go to my usually unoccupied bedroom. After grabbing a pair of dry pajama bottoms from a drawer, I notice that my bed has junk on it, so I push some of it on the floor, to give myself a place to lie down. I sit on the side of the bed. I'm suddenly feeling very weary. I lie back, but the dull pain in my back makes me turn on my left side. 

I close my eyes and let sleep claim me. 

 

J. Edgar Hoover building - Two days later 

"Sir, you wanted to see me?" I ask, walking into Skinner's office. Skinner looks over at me and gets up from behind his desk. 

"Yes, Agent Mulder. Won't you please have a seat?" He motions for me to sit. As I do, I notice him watching me. 

"I see you went to a doctor about your arm," Skinner said, glancing at the Ace bandage wrapped around my elbow. 

"Actually, Sir, Agent Scully noticed my elbow and wrapped it with one of those ice packs." 

"Oh. Did she ask you what happened?" Skinner inquired nervously, going to sit back behind his desk 

"Yeah, I just told her that I banged it somewhere," I shrugged. 

"How's your back? Does it still hurt?" he asked, sincerely concerned. 

"Not much. I'm feeling much better, Sir. Thanks for asking," I say politely. 

"Good, I'm glad to hear that." Skinner takes a deep breath then looks at me. 

"The reason I called you here, Agent Mulder, is to invite you to dinner at my place. Is tonight all right?" Skinner asks as if he did this everyday. 

I unconsciously stare open-mouthed at him. I can't believe what I just heard. Skinner was inviting me to his place-- *for dinner?* 

Skinner glares at me. "Mulder, close your mouth and give me your answer," he orders with some annoyance. 

"Um...yeah...yes, Sir, I'd be happy to come," I say nervously. 

"Great. Believe it or not, I'm a pretty good cook-- or so people have told me. I haven't had a fatality yet." Skinner smiles at me then lowers his eyes for a moment. All the smiling he's doing lately must be breaking some kind of personal record for him. He looks up at me.

"I just want to do something to make up for what I did." 

I open my mouth to speak and he stops me with a raised hand. 

"I know you don't feel it's necessary, but I do. So I'll see you tonight at around 7:30?" Skinner asks eagerly. 

"7:30 is fine with me, Sir. I'll see you then," I say, rising from the chair. "Is that all, Sir?" 

"Yes, Agent Mulder, that will be all," Skinner says as I turn to leave. 

"Oh Sir, would you like me to bring anything?" I ask, turning around to face him again. 

"No, just yourself would be fine," he says. I nod, open the door and walk out.

I proceed to go back to my office. I still can't believe Skinner has invited me to his apartment for dinner. I get to the door and hesitate before grasping the knob. I want to burst through the door saying, "Scully, you'll never guess what just happened! Skinner invited me to dinner at his place!" But I can't. I can't because after I tell her that, she's going to want to know why he invited me, then I'd have to tell her it's because he wants to make up for beating me. Then that will lead to telling her about the arrangement and I'm not ready to tell her anything about that right now, if ever. So I enter the office telling her a white lie about why Skinner wanted to see me and we go on with our work. 

By the end of the day, I was beginning to feel a little antsy about dinner. I said my goodbyes to Scully and walk to my car. After sliding in behind the wheel and closing the door, I pull off the restricting cold pack Scully attached to my elbow. I begin to bend it up and down, working out the stiffness. The swelling was almost gone, so was the pain. I put the key in the ignition, start the car and drive home. 

As I approach my apartment door, I notice it's open. *Christ, what now!* I immediately pull out my gun, holding it up. Taking in a deep breath, I kick the door open with my foot, point the gun in the room and shout "freeze!" To my surprise, standing in the middle of my living room was the man I only know as Mr. X. I lower my gun once my heart stops pounding and put it back in its holster. I move closer toward him and notice he's holding a large manila envelope. I look at it then look up at him with a puzzled expression. 

"Agent Mulder, this envelope contains the location of a secret underground experiment being done at Government expense. It's about cloning," he says. 

My eyes widen with interest. He continues: 

"Sometime ago, you discovered your sister was the victim of a cloning experiment. I think that experiment could be linked to this one. Tonight at around 7 PM, they're supposed to be arriving at this warehouse. I thought you might want to look into it." he says, handing me the envelope. 

I take it and begin to open it, taking out the contents. When I look up, Mr. X is walking out the door. I look back at the paper in my hand and see it's a map of a warehouse. I check the street and dash out of my apartment towards my car. 

After a while, I glance at my watch and notice that I've been sitting a block away from the warehouse waiting for signs of movement for almost 2 hours. It's now 8:07 PM. My back is beginning to feel really sore, thanks to Skinner... 

"OH SHIT! SKINNER!" I scream aloud. I forgot all about him and the dinner. I glance at my watch again. I was supposed to be there at 7:30 and it's now a little after 8. I'm already more than a half hour late and it'll take me another 45 minutes to get there from here. I reach for my cell phone to call him, but realize he never gave me his number. "SHIT!" I start the ignition and drive to Skinner's place in what only could be described as record time, the warehouse all but forgotten. 

 

Walter Skinner's Apartment 

I arrive at Skinner's place, looking at my watch-- it's 8:39 PM. Great, 10 minutes earlier than I expected. But what's so *great* about it? I'm an hour and 9 minutes late for Skinner's dinner. Christ! He's going to kill me this time! I jump out of the car and sprint into Skinner's building. As I come out of the elevator, I can feel the muscles in my stomach begin to tighten. An almost lightheaded dizzy feeling is coming over me. I stop and have to lean against the hallway wall. I run my hands through my hair and take a deep breath, then let out a ragged one. 

*'Come on Mulder', I say, trying to calm myself, 'pull yourself together. So you're late. It's not totally your fault. You have a very good reason. A reason that involves-- once again-- going off without back up from your partner, to an unknown destination that some secretive individual has told you to go to.'* This explanation doesn't sound so good. He's still going to have my ass, I'm sure of it. 

Oh well... I either leave now, never to be heard from again or I march myself in there and take what's coming to me like a man. After a few seconds, I lean off the wall and take a shaky step toward Skinner's door. Before I know it, I somehow manage to reach the door and I stand in front of it for a few more seconds. I close my eyes, take in another ragged breath and let it out. I open my eyes. I raise my hand to ring his doorbell. I ring then listen for Skinner to open the door. Nothing. Then I ring again. Nothing, not a sound. Could he have gone out? Could I be this lucky? I listen a while longer, then I turn away from the door, to leave. Just then, the door opens. 

"Agent Mulder?" 

I look back to see Skinner standing in the doorway in a towel. 

"Sir, I thought you weren't home," I said as I walk back toward the door. At closer inspection, his skin was wet from an apparent shower. 

"I'm here, Mulder. Come in." I hear a little annoyance in his voice, which is perfectly understandable. 

He leaves the door open for me then runs up a flight of stairs.

"I'm going to put on some clothes. I'll be right back." 

I watch him move up the stairs and when he's out of sight, I turn to close the door. I'm left alone, standing in his foyer. I don't dare leave this area for fear I'd be caught doing something he didn't like, like touching or picking up a rare something or other. I do look around from a distance. His place is very spacious with high ceilings. It's modestly decorated, every item of furniture carefully picked out to match the decor. The color of the living room was mostly beige, cream and white, with a little black and brown thrown in. I wonder if his ex-wife did most of the decorating? I peek around the corner of the room and find a 50-inch color TV, complete with a full entertainment center. Damn! If he wasn't my boss, I'd make him my new best friend. I wonder if he's into porn... I swing around to find Skinner jogging down the stairs, moving like a much younger man. 

"Agent Mulder, you didn't need my permission to remove your jacket and sit down, did you?" Skinner asks, wearing blue jeans and a white sweatshirt, with the sleeves pushed up. No shoes, just white socks. 

I shake my head and begin to remove my jacket as I move towards the couch. I lay my jacket on the couch and sit down. Skinner picks up my jacket and hangs it up in a nearby closet. There's something different about the way he's moving. He seems quick and agile as opposed to rigid and stiff. He moves like a man years younger than his age. I notice he doesn't seem to be angry about my lateness but even if he doesn't mention it, I feel he should know why I'm late... 

Or maybe not... 

I decide to wait for him to ask me. I watch him as he busies himself picking up newspapers and magazines. 

"I had to work later than I wanted to tonight so I didn't have time to come home and straighten up. That's why I was in the shower when you got here," he says removing the last of the newspapers. 

"You want something to drink?" he asks, standing before me. 

"Um yeah. Beer? I ask, as if he might not have any. 

"Sure. I got Lager, Stout, Ale-- any preference?" he asks. 

"Ah...Ale sounds good," I shrug, patting my hands together. 

Skinner disappears from the room. So he was late himself. That's why he wasn't angry when I arrived. He wasn't waiting for me like I thought, ready to jump on me as soon as I came through the door. But he must realize I was late. Doesn't he care? Isn't he going to ask me why? 

Skinner comes back in the room carrying two bottles of beer. He hands me one and takes the other and sits down in a near by chair facing me. I read the label -- *Bass Ale*. Good stuff, I smirk to myself then take a swig. I look over at Skinner and he takes a long swig and places the bottle on the coffee table. Then he looks at me. I try to ignore the look, pretending to be all consumed in drinking my beer. 

"So-- why are you late?" he finally asks, shifting his weight to lean back in the chair. 

I was in mid-swallow when he asked the question so I almost choke. After recovering, I notice him watching me with a blank stare, waiting for me to answer. I clear my throat, placing my bottle on the table. I look up at him again, wringing my hands nervously in my lap. 

"Agent Mulder, I'm waiting for you to give me an answer," he said, slightly impatient. 

"Yes, Sir. Um...I had to go somewhere before I came here and I guess I lost track of time," I say, hoping the questioning ends here. 

Skinner watches me curiously then leans forward. 

"Where did you have to go that was so important you forgot about my dinner invitation?" 

I wanted so much to say to him, "It's none of your fucking business!" Of course I don't. I have to tell him the truth this time. There is no way I was going to cause a reenactment of the incident from a few days ago. 

"Sir, I got a tip from an informant of mine to go to a warehouse where they're conducting cloning experiments." I pause to get his reaction. There isn't any, so I continue: 

"He thought I'd be interested because of the situation with my sister," I finish, squirming uncomfortably, waiting to hear what has to say. 

"Did you take Agent Scully with you?" Skinner asked with a glare. 

And there it was: The $64,000 question. I knew it was coming sometime tonight--it was just a matter of when. I knew by not taking Scully with me, I was violating strict Bureau procedure...again. By going to an unknown destination alone, I was unnecessarily putting myself in danger...again. That, of course, is according to them. Violating Bureau policy was worse than disobeying the direct orders of your superior. I was aware of this at the time, but there was just not enough time to contact Scully and take her to the location. If I had done that, I wouldn't have gotten *here* yet. This, of course, is my rationale for my behavior, which by no means will get my ass out of the fire. 

I lower my eyes briefly then look up at him. 

"No, Sir, Agent Scully didn't accompany me. I went alone." I didn't bother to give him my reason because I knew it would have made no difference. 

Skinner sat with a definite frown on his face. 

"Agent Mulder, are you aware you have violated Bureau policy and procedure, and it's a punishable offense?" Skinner kept his voice calm and even. 

I swallow, sighing loudly. "Yes, Sir. I'm aware of that." 

Skinner stares at me for a moment longer then sighs, getting up from the chair. I watch him, feeling a baseball sized knot forming in my throat. He walks out of the room. I rub my hands across my face in an attempt to relieve some tension. What is he going to do to me this time? I swear, if he doesn't tell me exactly how he's going to punish me before he begins, *I'm* canceling our freakin' arrangement and transferring. Well, maybe I'm being a little over dramatic, but I'm not going to let him get the chance to lost his temper with me again. 

"Mulder, dinner is ready. Come and eat." 

Skinner's voice came from a room somewhere in the back. I would guess the kitchen. I get up from the couch and walk in the direction of his voice. I also let my nose follow the delicious aroma filling the entire apartment. 

I find the kitchen then notice the area next to it with the beautifully decorated table and the dinnerware carefully placed on it. This was obviously the dining room. I look back to see Skinner coming in the room carrying a large bowl of salad and a plate of what appears to be garlic toast. As he places it on the table, he asks me if I wanted another beer. I shake my head "no" then he disappears into the kitchen again. Next he emerges with a large pan of lasagna, apparently just out of the oven. It looks incredible. 

"Have a seat and dig in. It's spinach and ground turkey lasagna. I use turkey to keep the fat content low." He picks up a spatula and digs it into the lasagna. 

I tentatively sit down, feeling as though I were about to partake in my last meal before my execution. I watch as Skinner scoops up a large helping of lasagna. 

"Give me your plate," he orders, reaching for it with his other hand. 

I pick up the plate in front of me and hand it to him. He places the food on it and hands it back. 

"Help yourself to the salad and bread," he says as he dishes up some himself. I look at my plate, trying to tame the nervous tension I'm feeling in my stomach so I can eat. I pick up a pair of tongs and serve myself some salad then I pick up a piece of toast and put it on my plate. I pour some dressing on my salad. I glance at Skinner, who's already started to eat. I definitely didn't want to offend him by not eating so I force myself to do it. After the first fork full, there was no stopping me. It was delicious! If this was my last supper, this was definitely worth it and I might as well go for it. I ate, asking for seconds. 

When I was finally done I leaned back from the table, trying to cover up a belch. I notice Skinner watching me with a gratifying smile on his face.

"There's still some left," he says with a hint of humor, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin. 

I look at him wide eyed, feeling like I did something wrong. 

"I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to..." 

"No, Mulder, that's quite all right. I invited you here for dinner so I expect you to eat it," he says as a matter of fact. 

"But Sir, I almost didn't leave any. That's rude," I say feeling my old friend, guilt. 

"Maybe where you come from but where I come from, what you did is the highest compliment you could ever give a cook." 

"Really?!" I say with innocence. 

Skinner nods, smiling again. I look at him and realize he doesn't seem angry at all. In fact he actually appears to be in good spirits. I pray it's not a cruel ploy to lure me into a false sense of security. I'm positive he's not going to let my behavior go unpunished. The point is-- when is he going to do it? I look at him again and he's watching me. As usual, I find his gaze uncomfortable and look away. Then I decide to busy myself by clearing the dishes off the table. 

"You don't have to do that," he says to me. 

*Oh yes, I do. Haven't you ever heard of brownie points, pal?*

"I want to, Sir. It's the least I can do after you've made such a delicious meal," I say carrying out an arm full of dishes. 

"All right, just scrape the excess food in the garbage disposal and put the plates in the dishwasher. I'll do the rest." 

I should have known Skinner would have a dishwasher. No scrubbing and drying for him. I put all the dishes on the rack and leave the rest for him like he told me to. Then I go back into the living room and wait on the couch. 

After a few minutes, Skinner comes into the room, picks up the remote from the table and turns on the TV. He starts scrolling through the channel guide. 

"You wanna watch some TV?" he asks, not waiting for an answer. "Let's see what's on... You like basketball, right?"

He quickly glances in my direction then back at the TV screen. "Maybe there's a game on tonight." He continues to search for a basketball game. 

I watch him with a confused look on my face. We are actually going to sit here and watch television? He's not going to do anything about what I told him? He must care about what I did. I violated Bureau policy, for crying out loud! Is Skinner going to ignore this? If not, when is he going to do something about it? I look up at him again, just as he finds a game. 

"Bingo! I found one!" he shouts, dropping the remote on the table and throwing himself on the couch next to me. I glance at him, still wearing a face of confusion. He glances at me then at the half finished beer left on the table. 

"You want another beer? That one is probably real flat by now." 

I don't answer right away. This makes him have to actually look at me this time. I lower my eyes then bring them up to meet his. I can see him searching them for answers.

"Agent Mulder is there a problem?" he asks. 

I sigh. "Yes, Sir. There is." 

He moves his torso toward me in an attempt to show interest in what I have to say. I begin to wring my hands nervously. 

"Sir, aren't you going to do anything about what I told you earlier?" 

"You mean about you violating Bureau policy and investigating a location alone?" he asked as if it was on the tip of his tongue. 

I nod my head, wondering if I was going to regret ever bringing it up. 

Skinner turns his face away from me, clasping his hands and lowering his head. 

"Mulder, I wanted us to have a pleasant evening together for once. I wanted to do something to make up for what happened the other night, not use this opportunity to punish you for something else." Skinner looked back at me. 

I think about what he's just said. 

"I understand that Sir, but if I deserve to be punished for what I did, I'd rather you do it and get it over with. You know how much I hate waiting around for the inevitable to happen. I mean you actually expect me to sit here and watch a basketball game, all the while knowing you're going to eventually whip my ass?" I tell him. 

He eyes me cautiously. "You don't think it's too soon considering our last session?" 

"No, Sir. I'm feeling much better and besides the bruises aren't on my ass," I say. Then I look into his eyes. "And Sir, I trust you to not let what happened ever happen again." 

Skinner held my eyes with his a few seconds more then stood up, turning off the TV. 

"Agent Mulder-- do you think you should be punished for what you did tonight?" he asked in a gentle tone. 

I swallow and sheepishly look up at him. 

"I did violate policy and procedure, Sir." 

"But I'm asking you: do *you* think *you* deserve to be punished for this?" A slight note of irritation could be heard in his voice. 

I lower my head, contemplating my fate. If I say "no, I don't think I should be punished", then maybe he wouldn't, but knowing him it would be done at a later time. If I say "yes", I'd be saying "yes" to one hell of an ass whipping I'm really not in the mood for - as if I'm ever really in the mood for an ass whipping. I slowly bring my head up to look at Skinner. 

"Yes, Sir, I deserve to be punished for what I did tonight." I lower my head once again as if to seal my doom. 

Skinner watches me, shaking his head then he moves closer to me. 

"Okay then. Get your clothes off by the time I come back." He takes a step. "And I mean *all* of your clothes." He disappears from the room. 

What a perfect ending to what *was* a perfect evening. I perform the usual ritual of removing my clothes. You would think by now I would be used to it, but I'm not. Each time feels like the first time. I do an internal checklist on the way I'm feeling. Heart pounding? Check. Enormous knot in my throat? Check. Queasy stomach? Check. Dry mouth? Check. And last but not least-- sweaty palms? Check. Yep, they're all there. I step out of my boxers just as he appears again. I glance at him to see what he is carrying. I don't see a belt, strap or even a paddle in sight. Not even a hair brush, not that there would be a reason for him to have one.... 

He bends down to place the objects he's carrying on the coffee table. I look down and see a bottle of what seems to be lube, paper towels and a pair of surgical gloves. What the fuck? Skinner looks at me and sees the confusion and anxiety in my eyes. He smiles and tells me to sit on the couch. I obey, not taking my eyes off him. 

"Agent Mulder, I guess you're wondering what all of this is about," he says, gesturing at the items on the table. I look up at him, nodding wide eyed. 

"You've been through a lot in the past few days, a lot of pain. Even though you feel you deserve to be punished, I'm the one who calls the shots and I say that you deserve the opposite of punishment tonight." He pauses and sees he has my undivided attention. 

"Mulder, you deserve to have some pleasure for a change. I believe if a person experiences nothing but pain, after a while he will become immune to it. The pain will become less effective because the person will become used to it, expecting it. If you don't experience pleasure sometimes, pain will lose its potency." He glances down at me then tells me to lie down on the couch and spread my legs apart. 

I look up at him with disbelief in my eyes. I can feel my mouth gapping open and I shut it, biting on my lower lip. Skinner is going to actually give me a hand job. Is that the pleasure he wants me to have? The pleasure of making me orgasm instead of the pain of a belt on my naked ass... Why does he think he can do this to me? I agreed to have him punish me not pleasure me. This doesn't seem right. I look at him standing there waiting for me. 

"Sir...I don't know... this doesn't seem..." My mind is reeling. "Sir, I didn't agree to this. Pleasuring me wasn't part of our arrangement," I tell him anxiously. 

"I'm perfectly aware of that, but like I said before no one should have pain without pleasure from time to time. All I've been giving you is pain. Now I want to give you some pleasure," Skinner said in a reasonable manner. 

"But Sir, *you're* going to do this?" I tried to conceal my emerging anxiety but it was evident in my voice. 

Skinner laughed to himself. 

"Mulder, is that what you're worried about? The fact that *I'll* be doing it?" He looks at me and I hang my head, feeling embarrassed and self-conscious. 

"This should be no different than the times I've whipped you bare assed and naked. This is by no means a sexual act...understand that. Yes, I'll be fondling your genitals to orgasm but it will be done strictly for the purpose of letting you feel pleasure. To give you release."

He pauses for a moment. I was afraid he was finished but he wasn't.

"Instead of me concentrating on your back, this time I'll be concentrating on your front." He smiles then the humor in his face disappears, turning serious. He watches me for a while. 

"Agent Mulder when was the last time you experienced pleasure? I mean real euphoric pleasure?" he asks with intensity in his eyes. 

I look at him. "What kind of pleasure are you talking about, Sir?" I knew exactly what kind of pleasure he was talking about, but I wanted to hear him say it. He gives me a *'I can't believe you are this naive'* look. 

"I'm talking about adult pleasure, Mulder. Sexual pleasure," he tells me, actually thinking I didn't know. I lower my eyes trying to think of what to tell him. I haven't had any of that kind of pleasure in a long time, at least not at the hand of someone else-- but did he have to know that. I wonder if masturbating counts.... 

"Does giving it to yourself count?" I ask innocently, giving him an embarrassed smile. 

Skinner looks at me with a mixture of what seems to be pity and humor, shaking his head. 

"No, Mulder, that doesn't count. When you experience pleasure by the hand of someone else or because of something that is happening to you, the pleasure is more profound. The fact you are not in control of what's happening to you makes the experience that much more intense." 

I look up at him again, and let him read the expression in my eyes. It's true I hadn't known that kind of pleasure for a long time, but I'm no stranger to pain at the hand of another. That look Skinner's giving me makes me feel like a pitiful bastard. I begin to feel very self-conscious-- after all, I am sitting here *naked* and having a discussion about sex. My embarrassment inevitably turns into self-pity and before long, I feel an abundance of suppressed emotions rushing to the surface. Tears well up in my eyes and I wish I was somewhere else. Skinner's nods his head in discernment then sits down next to me on his couch. 

"I'm the one who's been giving you physical pain, so let me be the one to give you some physical pleasure. That's all it is." Skinner said, his voice almost sounding as if he were begging, but I knew different. 

I allow my eyes to make contact with him. Without averting my gaze, I swallow, then lay back on the couch and slowly spread my legs apart. I can't believe I'm actually doing this. The familiar feelings of anxiety come over me but this anxiety was not due to the fear of feeling pain. Rather, it was the anxiety of anticipating something I haven't experienced for sometime, from someone who I *never* thought would be giving it to me.

Skinner watches me with a look of satisfaction as he moves off the couch and proceeds to put on the surgical gloves. I try my best to not appear as apprehensive as I feel. I watch his every move. He stops as he's putting the gloves on and looks at me. Frowning, he rips them off and throws them back on the table. 

"Agent Mulder, if you don't mind I would rather not put on the gloves. I think the experience would be better if I used my bare hands. The lube is activated by body heat." Skinner gives me a knowing smile. "I think you'll enjoy it more this way." I believe I hear him emphasizing the word, 'enjoy'. 

I manage to give him a nervous smile in return. He squeezes some lube in the palm of his hand, rubbing them together. My breathing begins to mimic my racing heartbeat. As he moves towards me all I can think is-- this is weird...this is so fucking weird. I never thought the idea of having an arrangement where I give my boss permission to whip my ass was normal, but this...this was just...weird. There was no other word to describe it.  
Skinner sits on the edge of his coffee table watching me as he continues to activate the lube by rubbing his hands together. My eyes are now the size of half dollars and I know he can see my anxiety. 

"I think this would be easier on you if you closed your eyes and tried to relax," Skinner suggested. 

I swallow hard and close my eyes. At first my eyelids refuse to obey, fluttering nervously before they calm themselves and remain still. Now I've lost a sense. I can no longer depend on my vision. Like a blind person, I had to rely on my remaining senses to try and find out what was going on around me. I've heard once you lose one sense, the other ones become hyper sensitive. I find out all too soon how true that statement is. I lie there trying to slow down my breathing. I find my hands gripping the edges of the couch cushions due to my ever-growing anxiety. I listen for any sound that would let me know what was going on. Suddenly I smell a pleasant odor. It smelled a little like sweet berries. Was that the lube? Christ, don't let it be flavored. I don't think I could handle that tonight. Then I smell the undeniable scent of cologne, a man's cologne, obviously Skinner's. I can sense he's close to me. I think I hear the table creaking slightly from his body weight. 

"Okay. I want you to remain calm, Mulder. I'm going to touch you now," he warned. 

I was finding it incredibly difficult to remain calm, so much so my entire body was on alert anticipating where he was going to touch me. I waited and waited and waited. Then I felt his touch really close to my groin. Every bit of the tension my body was holding decides to expel itself in a manner resembling a violent convulsion. My eyes fly open and I sit bolt upright, lunging my head forward. 

"OW!" My head made contact with Skinner's forehead. I look up as he grabs his head in pain. 

"Jesus, Mulder! You've got to relax!" he said, rubbing his head. 

"I'm really sorry, Sir. I'm trying," I said, rubbing my head and feeling extremely guilty. 

I watched as Skinner got up from the table. He began to pace, wiping his hand over his head. He looks over at me and sits back on the table. 

"I want you to lie back down on the couch." 

I did as I was told, lying down on the couch. I try to hide my nervousness. I notice Skinner leaning towards me. 

"I want you to close your eyes and keep them closed, then place your hands on your stomach."  
I did this, awaiting his next instruction. 

"Now I want you to breath in slowly, feeling your stomach rise under your hands. Then breath out, feeling your stomach sink. Do it *slowly*." 

I do it and he tells me to do this a few more times. I know this is a breathing technique designed to reduce stress and make you relax. Pretty necessary-- you could definitely say I am experiencing stress right now. After a few more I can actually feel myself becoming relaxed. His voice is so calm and soothing. 

"Okay, now I want you to move your right hand to your left nipple and rub across it very slowly. Then take your remaining hand and rub your stomach in a slow circular motion." 

I had not heard of this as part of the relaxation technique, but it was working. It was not only making me relax but I was actually becoming... aroused. I could feel my cock being nudged to life. 

"Keep your eyes closed and pinch your right nipple." 

I'm doing this. I'm beginning to breath quicker. Then he tells me to continue pinching until it's erect. After this, he tells me to take my hand off my stomach and put it on the other nipple-- first rubbing, then pinching. As I continue to tweak both of my nipples they become painfully erect, causing me to groan a little in pain and arch my back. 

"Now. slide you right hand back down to your stomach and let your finger tips touch your pubic hair... play in it while your left hand continues to squeeze your nipples... move from one nipple to the other." 

I'm doing this, desperately wanting to move my fingers to my cock, but I don't. 

"Okay good, now slowly slide that hand under your right buttock and squeeze," Skinner says in a raspy voice. I do it. I'm obeying every command he's giving me. All I hear is his voice. Calm, soothing and gently commanding. I push any previous apprehension I had away and focus on what he is telling me to do, what his voice is making me feel. 

"Take your left hand and do the same thing, then simultaneously squeeze the cheeks of your ass gently." I do this, lifting my hips slightly. 

"Good, now pull your cheeks apart, then push them close. Do this on my command. Open, close, open, close.... That's right, just like that." 

God what is he doing to me? With my eyes closed, I'm not aware of anything but the sensations my hands are causing, that his words are causing. I feel cool air entering my anus each time I pull my ass open. My cock was growing harder and harder. I pray the next thing he tells me to do would involve my cock. 

"Okay, stop that and spread your legs apart, bringing the bottoms of your feet together." I do as I'm told. "Now place a hand on each of your inner thighs and slowly move them towards your crotch. Do not touch your penis." I do this, making sure to avoid my penis.

Shit. 

"Good, keep rubbing your inner thighs slowly, down to your knee and back up to your crotch, avoiding your cock. Now, let your fingers gently pull your pubic hair, then move them to your balls-- nestle your fingers under them. Feel the heat there. Now take your left hand and slowly move it over your stomach and across your chest, brushing your nipples then back down to your stomach, over your navel and stop at your pubic hair then back up again. Keep doing this in this order until I tell your to stop." 

I can feel the heat rising in my body-- a fine sheet of sweat forming under my hands. My breathing was now coming in deep quick bursts. I begin to writhe on the couch, lifting my hips. I continue to move my hands over my body at a feverish pace. I could feel my cock rising as it becomes stiffer. I'm finding it incredibly hard to avoid my cock as my hands move across my body. I pray he will tell me to touch it. 

"All right, you can stop now," he orders and I stop all movement, opening my eyes to look at him. He's watching me. He has a serious expression, which makes me a little nervous.

"Agent Mulder, is your penis aching to be touched?" he asks, as if *he* were blind. 

I glance down at my cock, which was now lying against my stomach, seeping precum. I expel a ragged breath. 

"Yes.... it is, Sir." I lift my hips towards him. 

"I'm glad to hear that, but from here on you are not going to touch yourself anymore. If you want that penis to be touched, *I'm* going to be the one to do it, is that clear?" he commands. 

This was an act of pure genius. Skinner knew if he made me horny enough, I wouldn't care if he brought in the Pope to finish me off, just as long as it was done. I look at him, pleading and nodding my head frantically. I watched as he gets up from the table and sits on the couch at my feet. He rubs more lube in his hands. This time instead of becoming nervous and afraid, I'm anxious for him to begin... to touch me, to give me the pleasure he promised. 

He tells me to close my eyes. I do, lying there waiting to feel the pressure of his hand. 

"Okay, just relax and let yourself feel."

Suddenly I feel his hand rest on my right thigh. It feels warm, almost hot. Then I feel that hand slowly move up my thigh-- getting closer and closer to my crotch. My breathing quickens. When it reaches my crotch, it stops for a moment then his fingers are on one of my balls. I feel a warm pressure, then he gently squeezes. His fingers move to my other one, squeezing. Soon I can feel his hand manipulating both my testicles-- rolling them in his fingers. The lube has made his hand warm and smooth. I had no idea that Skinner's hands were so soft - maybe it was because of the lube - don't know. All I know is they feel incredible. I raise my hips to meet his hand and to give him the message that I want more.

He continues to manipulate my balls, squeezing and rolling them in his hand. He had been using only one hand, then I feel a warm pressure grip my cock. He rubs his thumb on the tip, smearing precum over the head. He slides his hand down my cock to the base and back up again. His grip is firm but temperate. He begins to pump my cock up and down in a slow rhythmic motion. Jesus, it feels so good. I'm being driven to a place of unbearable pleasure. I'm biting on my bottom lip, moaning loudly. I don't know what to do with my hands. I claw at the couch cushions then bring my arms up over my head, thrashing my head from side to side. I find a small pillow and press it tightly to my chest, in an effort to keep some control of myself. My hips begin to gyrate so much I don't know how Skinner is able to hold on to me. His hands are now moving faster. He loosens his grip on my cock a little, making me now able to thrust into his fist. We develop a good rhythm, he pumping and me thrusting. I am so fucking close now and I think Skinner can sense it. I hear him prompting me. 

"Come on, Mulder, let yourself go. Cum. You know you want to and I want you to. You need this. You deserve this. Cum for me, Mulder. Cum for yourself." 

I squeeze my eyes tight and clench my teeth. I want to obey him. I want to cum for him. For me. I feel the pressure on my genitals become stronger. Skinner was really working to bring me off. I throw the pillow off my chest and press my fingers into the couch cushion. I push my head back into the couch, throwing my mouth open and making incoherent sounds. 

"Come on, Mulder. Do it! Cum now! Cum for me! That's an order!" 

I bite my lip, grimacing as I feel my approaching orgasm build. As I feel it becoming more and more intense, I can't remain quiet. I begin to scream and call on the powers that be to help me... to end this torture and let me cum. Finally an intense spasm engulfs my groin. This is the only part of my body that exists right now. My breathing stops and my whole body tenses. I feel my cum explode from my body, gushing over my thighs and stomach. I feel Skinner's hands continuing their assault until every last bit of semen is drained from me then he removes his hands. As the spasm begins to subside and my breathing goes back to normal, I open my eyes to find Skinner smiling down at me. I can't help but smile back. 

"Well, Agent Mulder, I guess you can say that's the first time you've actually obeyed a direct order *without* an argument. How do you feel?" he asks, wiping his hands in a paper towel. 

I release a long breath and rub my hands over my face. 

"Jesus, Sir, that was incredible. Thank you." 

"Mulder, if you thank me after I give you pleasure, then I'm going to start telling you to thank me after I give you pain. I didn't do this because I was being nice. I did this because it was necessary for the discipline process. Now you know what real pleasure feels like, real sexual pleasure by someone else's hand. My hand." He holds up his hands. "These same hands can give you just as much pain. It's your decision. It's your choice." 

I nod my head, blinking at him as he explains all of this to me. I see how much control he has over me. He has the power of my pleasure and my pain... in his hands. He gives me a few paper towels to clean myself. I sit up and notice the stains on the couch.

"Oh man, Sir, I'm sorry about your couch!" I said as I start rubbing the stains with the paper towel. 

He grabs my hand. "No, Mulder, that's not necessary and don't apologize for something that's not your fault. If anything, it's my fault for not covering it with a towel or something." 

I nod and begin to get up from the couch. 

"Sir, is it all right if I take a shower?" I ask. 

"Sure, it's up the stairs, second door on the right. You'll find extra towels in the cabinet under the sink." 

I thank him, grab my clothes and jog naked up the stairs to the bathroom. I glance down to see him straightening up his living room, trying to make it look as though what just took place never happened. 

I walk into his bathroom and close the door. As I'm hanging my clothes on a hook behind the door, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My face is still flushed and my eyes hold the look of sated lust. What have I become under the control of this man? I tear my eyes away from my reflection and pull back the shower curtain, stepping into the stall. I pull the curtain closed and turn on the water, adjusting the temperature. The water feels good against my skin. I look around for some shampoo-- then thought about it. There should be some... after all, he does have some hair around the sides of his head... but I don't find any, so I settle for just running the shower over my head. I find the towels he mentioned under the sink and begin to dry myself. I put on my clothes and exit the bathroom. On my way down the stairs, I can see that Skinner is no longer in the living room. I pull on my socks and boots then go to find him. 

Upon approaching the kitchen, I hear the sound of dishes. I get to the kitchen to see Skinner putting them in the cabinet. As he's closing the door, he notices I'm behind him. 

"Agent Mulder," he says, "how was your shower?" He glances at my hair and adds: 

"Were you able to find the shampoo?" 

I decided not to lie about it. 

"No, Sir, I didn't," I answer honestly. He gives me a strange look. 

"Did you even bother to look or did you just assume I didn't need to use any?" he said, glaring at me. 

Shit, what have I done now?

"Um...Sir, I didn't mean to offend you. I just didn't see any and..." 

Suddenly he's laughing. I never heard this before. It is a hearty, warm sound emanating from deep within his chest. I stare at him wide-eyed. 

"Mulder, I'm just yanking your chain," he said, still giggling. 

Skinner *giggling?*

"I keep the shampoo on the bureau in my bedroom. Don't ask me why. You would never have found it." 

He managed to stop the giggling, but now he is watching me again with a smile on his face. It makes me feel a little self-conscious. I avert my eyes by concentrating on the interesting pattern of his floor tile. I notice him moving away from the cabinets and walking toward the stove. I watch him as he puts on an oven mitt and bends to open the oven door. He pulls out a pan of something and places it on top of the stove. It smells wonderful. Closing the oven and removing the mitt, he turns to face me. 

"I would assume you're feeling a little hungry right now. I made us some dessert. I hope you like cobblers. This one is peach. I got the recipe from Sharon's mother. It's one of my favorite desserts. I had hoped after the divorce I wouldn't have to go without ever eating it again. When her mother gave me the recipe, I decided to see if I could make it myself. Have a seat and we'll give it a try." He turns to get the dessert and places it on the table. I sit as told. 

I don't know why but I'm feeling very nervous and a little uncomfortable. I hope it doesn't show on my face. Skinner cuts me a good size piece and puts it on a plate in front of me. He was right: I *was* starving again. I guess a good orgasm will do that to you. I can't wait to devour it. I scoop some on my fork and raise it to my mouth, when suddenly Skinner stops me. 

"Wait! Don't eat it yet! I forgot something!" he yells, jumping up from the table and going toward the frig. I watch him open the freezer and take out a container of ice cream. I'm still holding up the fork full of cobbler as he returns, placing the ice cream on the table. He then gets a scooper out of the drawer and scoops out some onto my raised plate. 

"You can't eat hot fruit cobbler without vanilla ice cream-- it's just not right," he says, scooping out some for himself then putting away the ice cream. I put down my fork and decide to watch him. 

*Who is this?* This is definitely not my boss-- the surly, Assistant Director of the F.B.I.. It's like he's got multiple personality disorder or something. The thing is-- I like this personality. For the first time, I see Skinner as just a guy, a guy I wouldn't mind hanging out with sometime. Of course when he's not punishing or pleasuring me. Well, maybe after the pleasuring wouldn't be so bad. What am I thinking?! He comes back to the table and notices I'm not eating. 

"Agent Mulder, why aren't you eating? You do like peach cobbler don't you?" he asks. 

"Oh yes, Sir, I do," I say, putting a fork full into my mouth. It was quite good. I'm not a big dessert eater but this was really delicious. Who would have thought Skinner could cook, or even bake for that matter? He seems to be the perfect catch for any woman. I wonder what really happened with him and Sharon? Maybe this *I can do everything* routine is not all it's cracked up to be. 

We eat our dessert with hardly any conversation. I'm still feeling a little uncomfortable. Actually embarrassed is a better word. Skinner seems to be taking it all in stride as he does with everything else. I can't believe he didn't get aroused doing that to me. Maybe he did-- my eyes were closed the whole time. He can't be as indifferent as he appears. I watch him get up from the table, taking our dishes. 

"You done, or would you like more?" he asks me, holding my plate. I look up at him. 

"No, thank you. I'm done." 

He gives me a puzzled look. "What-- no seconds? Didn't like it as much as the lasagna, I take it," he says, placing the dishes in the dishwasher. 

"Oh no, Sir. I thought it was delicious. Really. I'm just a little full," I tell him, lowering my eyes when he looks back at me. I can feel him watching me but I dare not look up at him. 

"Mulder, I think we need to talk. Let's go back in the living room."

I look up as he's moving past me. I reluctantly get up to follow him. As we arrive in the living room, I carefully try to avoid the couch and walk over to the chair and sit down. Skinner sits on the couch. I stare at my wringing hands, trying to calm down. I really don't want to have this conversation right now, all I want to do is go home and pretend this night never happened. 

"I meant to ask you if you would like to have a cup of coffee?" 

I don't think I should considering the fact that I'm practically jumping out of my skin now and caffeine will just make it worse. 

"No thank you, Sir," I say, looking up at him then quickly looking back down at my hands. Again I feel Skinner's eyes on me. 

"Agent Mulder, is there something wrong?" he asks. 

I don't want to lie to him, but I don't know how to amswer him either. I put my face in my hands and sigh loudly. After uncovering my face, I look over at him. He's waiting patiently for my answer. I stand up and walk over to the window. Without turning around, I begin. 

"Sir, about what you did to me tonight. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it, you could see that, but I don't think...I mean...It's not..." I can't find the words. I lower my head, shaking it in defeat. 

"Mulder." I hear him say from behind. "First of all, I don't like speaking to someone's back. Please come over here and sit down." After a few seconds, I obey him, turning away from the window and sitting in the chair I was in moments before. I'm looking at my hands again. 

"Now, take your eyes away from your fascinating hands and look at me." His voice was even and calm. I look at him and find his eyes are the same. 

"I'm sorry if you’re upset about what I did to you tonight. I didn't mean to upset you. I took it as doing something to you that you would find enjoyable...nothing more." 

"What did you do to me, Sir? I know you gave me pleasure, but what is this *something* called? Did you... masturbate me? Maybe that's the term, but is it right for two grown men-- who are supposed to be heterosexual to be doing together? I mean, I don't call myself a prude, Sir, but this seems to be going a little far," I say with conviction. 

"And you think one grown man giving another grown man spankings and whippings bare assed and naked is *right?*" he asked in a matter of fact tone. 

I stare at him for a moment before giving him my answer. He's right. That's no better but it is different. I never considered the whippings to be sexual. He even told me he was being turned on when he was doing this. But masturbating me-- how could this *not* be considered a sexual act? I know he called it pleasuring me but it just seems so weird. 

"Sir, that isn't right either but it was part of the arrangement we made. We *both* agreed to this." 

I watch Skinner lower his head, shaking it. He then looks over at me. 

"Is that the problem Mulder, the fact that this wasn't a part of our arrangement? You would have preferred that I'd written up a contract and had you sign it first?" he asks with what sounds like humor in his voice. 

I look at him, letting him see in my eyes I don't find this at all funny. His eyes take on a more serious gaze. 

"Sir, when we started this arrangement, it was very difficult for me. Shit, it still is. Giving someone permission to punish you any way they see fit isn't an easy thing to do. Every time I give you the opportunity to whip me, I'm giving up my control. I hardly have much control of my life as it is and this arrangement just takes more. I agreed for you to do this because it was necessary for my well being and others, but what you did tonight... I don't feel it was necessary for my well being or anybody else's," I finish anxiously, waiting for him to reply. Skinner gets up from the couch and does a bit of pacing himself. I keep my eyes on him. He then turns toward me. 

"Agent Mulder, if you felt this way, why did you let me do it?" he asks, going back to sit on the couch. 

This was a good question, a very good question. Why did I let him do it? I could have been firm and told him no. When he came back into the room and told me what he was going to do, I could have grab my clothes, put them back on and left. It wouldn't have violated the arrangement because it wasn't part of our arrangement. I could have done something, but I didn't. Why? Is it because I trust Skinner and I know he has my best interest in mind? Or is it because I was afraid to tell him no, afraid to stand up to him? 

No, that can't be it because I've never been afraid of Skinner, not really. Before our arrangement, he intimidated me a little. Hell, he intimidates half the bureau-- but I never let that get in the way of what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it. Since our arrangement, that attitude has changed somewhat. I'm more hesitant now about my headstrong decisions. That, by no means, guarantees I still won't do what I think is right when the time comes, regardless of punishment. This is why I don't think fear was what allowed me let him do what he did tonight. 

Then what was it? Maybe I didn't want to disappoint him. Ever since Skinner's been my boss, I've had this urge to please him. I know it seems like I go out of my way to displease him but deep down I've always regretted it. I wanted to show him I could be the good little agent who follows his orders to the letter, but then I'd wake up. Our arrangement was a way for me to try harder to do the right thing for me and for him. Especially for him. Tonight when he offered to pleasure me, I don't *think* I wanted to say no for fear I would disappoint him somehow. Maybe that was the reason. Or maybe it wasn't the fear of him but of what he might do. Maybe I thought if I objected to what he wanted to do then he would just punish me instead. Having him jerk me off would be better than him whipping my ass any day. Right? 

And lastly, there is the reason I'm trying so much to avoid: Maybe I *wanted* him to jerk me off for the pure sexual thrill of it. I mean he was right-- I hadn't had anybody do anything sexual to me for longer than I care to remember. Even though he said it wasn't a sexual act, it was just supposed to be an act to give me pleasure. 

Who does he think he's kidding? Stroking somebody's cock and fondling their balls is definitely a sexual act regardless of what he believes. Maybe the fact that I do trust him made it easier for me to let him do this. At the time it seemed perfectly right. I couldn't argue with his reasoning. He sounded so convincing, so logical. I trust him to whip the shit out of me, so why not trust him to drain the cum out of me. Skinner has the ability to *make* me submit. The sheer fact that he has the power to physically keep me in line gives him the right to command me in other ways he sees fit. I think I would have jumped off a bridge if he had told me to. If any of this sounds the least bit sexual, so be it. 

He's awaiting my answer to the "Why did I let him do it?" question. The only answer I can give is: all of the above. There is really no reason why I should be upset. Maybe I think being upset is the *correct* thing to be. How dare he take such liberties with me? Who does he think he is? 

I think I can answer that one. He's my *everything*. He's my conscience, my control, my delinquency, my redemption, my restraint, my truth, my fabrication, my pain, and now, my... pleasure. This is who he is. I look over at him with painful eyes. 

"Sir, I let you do that to me because...at the time I wanted you to."

He waits for me to continue. I move to the end of my chair, leaning closer to him. 

"Sir, at first when you suggested it, I didn't think it was a good idea but I trusted you. Ever since our arrangement, we have built this trust between us. Why should it stop now? I went along with whatever you wanted me to do or experience because I knew you had my best interests at heart. Even though I trusted you to do this to me, I still couldn't help but think it wasn't right. We didn't agree you were going to do this. At the same time I allowed it, I was freaked out by my decision. The sexual intimacy of it scared the shit out of me, although you told me it wasn't a sexual act. To me, genital fondling *is* a sexual act. I never had a man touch me like that before. I figured afterwards I shouldn't have let you, so to justify the fact I thought it was wrong, I couldn't allow myself to be okay with it. I had to feel bad, upset. I thought those were the right feelings to have, but now I know those feelings were wrong. I should have trusted you enough to do this to me, for me and feel okay about it. I'm sorry."  
Skinner had a blank expression on his face. He looked away into space for a second then back at me. 

"Mulder, I'm the one who should be apologizing to you. I should never have been so bold as to think you wouldn't mind me pleasuring you that way. You're right: it wasn't a part of our arrangement so I should have never assumed that you would be okay with it. You have ever right to be upset but just know my intentions were good." He smiles at me, a warm caring smile. I smile back. 

"Of course I know that, Sir. Now, where do we go from here?" I ask. 

He looks at me in confusion. "What do you mean?" 

"What do we do about this new addition to our arrangement? Will you be giving me *pleasure* whenever I do the right thing and obey your direct orders?" I ask, trying to suppress the eagerness in my voice. 

"If that's what you want, Agent Mulder. If you think it's a necessary part of the discipline process to feel a little pleasure or be rewarded from time to time when you're being obedient, then we can add it, with your approval. But just like with the punishment, it's going to be up to me as to what I will do, when I will do it and where it will be done. And I'll never do anything in the same way twice." 

Jesus, he sounds so authoritative and commanding. Even though I hate to admit it, as I was listening to him I feel my cock twitch. Oh bother. So now this is the deal. When I do something good, he'll pleasure me and when I do something bad, he'll punish me. That's simple enough. You would think this would make me into a complete saint, but you would be wrong. After all, I'm still me. I've never been the kind of guy who lets his dick rule his life and I don't intend to start now. This pleasure thing will just make it harder on me when I do fuck up. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm going to definitely make it a point to obey some orders from time to time. I'm no fool. It's just that now he's given me *more* incentive to really try. I smile at him. 

"Okay, Sir. I think you're right. I believe it's *very* necessary in the discipline process for me to feel pleasure from time to time. We should definitely add it to our arrangement." 

Skinner's gives me a knowing nod and a glint of humor behind his eyes. 

"Okay then," he says standing up, "it's officially added. Now, would you like to have a cup of coffee? I'm getting a cup for myself. Decaf, ‘cause it's late." 

I stand as he moves toward the kitchen. 

"Yes, Sir, after I have another piece of that cobbler," I say, licking my lips. 

Skinner turns around to look at me. 

"So, all of a sudden you want to eat again, huh?" he teases. 

"I guess all that honesty makes a man hungry," I say, rubbing my stomach. 

"Well, Agent Mulder, you'll find honesty and other good values will get you a lot of pleasurable things," he says as he walks out of the living room toward the kitchen. 

I follow him realizing I've been honest most of the evening, along with polite and helpful. I cleaned my plate, even asked for seconds --and thirds, and most of all, I obeyed his direct order and came when he told me to. So I think I deserve to be *pleasured* for what I did. I mean he did say I would be pleasured when I was good. And I was good. I move quickly to catch up with him so I could remind him as to how good I was. 

 

THE END


End file.
